False Alarm
by Yiramy
Summary: A historical fanfic about Germany invading the Netherlands in World War Two. Purely historical, no blood, gore etc. Mainly Germany and Netherlands, minor appearances of others.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes inspiration comes at inconvenient times. It's almost 4.30 am as I publish this.

This will be a historical two-shot about Germany invading the Netherlands in World War Two. And.. a Mof is a Dutch insult for a German. Always wanted to use that word in a story. xD

xXx

"Tell them they can go back to sleep," the nation groaned as he stared at the map of Europe. The map of Europe which was decorated with red little pushpins; mainly in Poland. One of his commanders behind him scribbled something down on a paper.

"Why?"

"It's a false alarm. Again." Every time Germany told him he would invade. Every time he had been ready for it. Every time nothing happened. He actually hoped this would be the last time. He hoped this was just an act to intimidate him. He hadn't been in war for already hundred years. He declared himself neutral! Germany would respect that, wouldn't he? The Netherlands knew his neighbour wasn't to blame. It was his neighbour's boss to blame. However, it was so easy to say it was all Germany's fault.

"Fucking Mof."

"Sir?" A general addressed the Dutch nation.

A sigh could be heard. "Ja?"

"What are you going to do about the German spies?"

The question earned him a glare. The spies were of great concern, though. They had been using the observation posts of one of his zoo's and forests, being completely out of sight. They only caught a couple of them, but there were probably more.

It would be more difficult for the Germans to spy on the Dutch defenses if the Dutch nation wasn't so stubborn. They could've closed the observation post in his zoo. They could've chopped the trees nearby the look-outs, but they didn't do it. Only because of the money. It was always about money. This time he made a huge mistake; it was one of the reasons the Netherlands would be invaded. One mistake that would cost a lot of money and a lot of lives. But, as they didn't know all this back then, nothing was done about the observation posts.

Without giving his general an answer, the nation searched in his pockets for a cigarette. He didn't care about the non-smoking policy in headquarters; if he needed a smoke, he was going to get one.

"He isn't going to invade the country," the Netherlands stated. "We've had so many false alarms.. I don't believe it anymore." It was April 1940.

"But Sir, it wouldn't be a good idea to lower our guard. He's an unpredictable man. Adolf H - "

"Don't say his name," one of his higher ranked marine officers hissed. He'd lost a good friend a few months ago when two British agents got captured. One of the first victims of the war with Germany. The general never got the chance to apologise, though. The group was interrupted by an overexcited but worried man, who later turned out to be an air-pilot for the KLM, the Dutch royal airline.

"Sir!"

"What is it?" the nation asked while he dropped some of the ash from the cigarette on the floor. If he only knew what Germany was doing. If he only knew what was going to happen. He really hated not knowing what the other was planning. How could he possibly prepare on something unexpected?

"The Germans are after the airports, general." Only his highest ranked officers knew who he really was. For most soldiers he was just 'another general'. The pilot told him his story. He had seen it all. He had seen how Norwegian and Danish airports were so easily overpowered by the enemy. If they stationed just a battalion of soldiers by each airport, they would be able to keep the airports in Dutch hands. The Netherlands quickly ordered his general to take care of the five main airports in the country. After that, there was little they could do. They knew too little to know anything at all. The enemy was like a crocodile. The crocodile was there, motionless. It was yet unknown when the beast decided to open its mouth.

The crocodile opened one eye on 9 May 1940.

"Sir?" The nation stared sleepily at one of his marine officers. "What? Need me already? Can't let an old senile fossil have some sleep, hm?"

One glance on the face of the Dutch admiral told him there was something bad going on.

"The Germans will be invading the country the following day, sir."

The Netherlands was not impressed. "It'll be a false alarm." He closed his eyes, wanting to go back to sleep, but his officer grabbed him firmly by his arm.

"What if it's not? What if it's real?"

This man was said to be a good strategist. Why wasn't he acting like one? There was always a chance they would be attacked. Why was the nation taking such a risk? Didn't he care for his land and his people? Truth was, he did. A bit too much at that very moment. "Trust me, it's a false alarm. There's no need to take it serious." He heard his admiral sighing deeply, as if said officer was trying to keep his anger under control.

"Are you losing your head sir? Even the tiniest chance of being attacked should make you wary. You know that all too well!"

"This war is different. It's a threat. Nothing will happen. But if you're that worried, go ahead. Tell the soldiers at the front there's a chance there'll be an attack," he simply responded. The Netherlands opened his eyes again to glance at his marine officer. "There's no need to alarm the other battalions though. We'll fight them off at the front if they come."

The man nodded at his words and left the room. A decision was made. It was a wrong one.

Several hours later, the nation woke up in the middle of a chaotic headquarters. People were running, others studied maps of specific regions and the radio was turned on.

"What's wrong?" he asked at the officer nearest by.

"What's wrong? Six German trains crossed the border, that is what's wrong." The Netherlands suddenly was fully awake and looked somewhat white. Oh no. This was not good. This was the kind of message he wished he never would get. He quickly put on his jacket and wanted to go outside to check the sky, when the radio creaked. The whole room went dead quiet when the voice told them several hundred planes from an unknown country coming from an eastern direction were coming their way. The minister of War was the first person to speak.

"Ridiculous! This will only cause panic."

One of the younger men looked up at the minister. "Actually… I just got a conformation. It's true. It's the Luftwaffe."

The Netherlands had heard enough. After he quickly put on his boots, he made his way to the door, but got blocked by one of his officers.

"Where do you think you're going, sir? There's nothing you can do."

The nation glared at him. "Exactly. I'm stuck in Den Haag. There's nothing I can do. I'm going to the borders."

"Sir, you can't - " another began.

"Don't tell me what to do. Now get out of my way." He pushed the man away and opened the door, only to be greeted with a gun. Apparently the government knew him a bit too well. Knowing he had no choice, he stepped back inside, sighing, anger rising.

"I am sorry. We need you here," his prime minister responded when he sent an furious look at the man. He handed the nation a map of two of his provinces, Gelderland and Overijssel. One of the three main rivers, the IJssel, was one of the few natural barriers the nation had. The Netherlands sat down and stared at the map; several places were marked.

"Bridges?" he asked.

The minister nodded. "The Germans will probably try not to destroy the bridges, as they are necessary to cross the river."

"Blow them up," he responded coldly. "Tell the soldiers to get off the bridges right now." Soon after that, the bridges by Westervoort and Deventer were no more, after as Dutch officers disguised Germans tried to make the inflammation unusable.

At six a.m. Dutch time, they received a message. The crocodile has moved.


	2. Chapter 2

Hehe, I lied. There'll be more chapters than two, since... a lot happens in five days..and after two chapters I'm still at the beginning of the first day. And thank you very much for the reviews! I had this huge grin on my face when I read it. :3

xXx

He wrapped his hands carefully around the mug of coffee and looked at his general. "Let the delegate in and give him some coffee as well. It's cold in here." It was true. Although it was May already, the summer didn't really show himself. For him, it took five years before it could be truly summer again.

There was no reason to treat the German delegate as an enemy. After all, the man came in peace, and after all, the Netherlands was still neutral. At that time he didn't know it were his last moments of neutrality before he got caught in the war.

His officer nodded and opened the door, only to reveal a tall, blonde, young man, clad in a long green coat and wearing a hat to hide his face. The man didn't say a word, but sat down when a seat was offered, opposite from the Dutch nation.

The German delegate politely declined the cup of coffee and handed a letter to the nation. He, on his turn left the letter unopened and stared at the blonde German.

"You can remove your hat. I like to talk to a face, not a shadow. We're not going to do anything to you. After all, we're not the ones invading your country."

After a couple of minutes, in which the Netherlands literally felt the young man was staring at him, the delegate removed his hat, only to reveal an all too familiar person.

"Guten Morgen, Niederlande."

The Dutch nation managed to swallow a couple of insults down his throat and instead sipped of his coffee to hide his annoyance and anger. "Duitsland." He shoved the unopened letter back to Germany, who silently folded it and put it in his coat.

"Ich bin gekomm - "

"English," the Dutch interrupted him. "I don't want to hear your language in my country."

"I came here to tell you personally we'll be taking over your land," he continued, as if he wasn't interrupted at all. "We can make a deal if you let us without resisting. However, if you do resist… we'll destroy you."

Everyone stared. This was unexpected; even though they have been too naive to think they would be left alone. The room was completely silent; no one dared to say anything. The Netherlands drank some more of his coffee to avoid losing his calmth. "And why should we let you take over my country? I am neutral. I have declared neutrality. You can't invade me."

For a split second it looked like Germany was going to laugh. Instead he leaned forward to look at his neighbour with intense blue eyes. Dangerous blue eyes. "The United Kingdom and France will use the Low Countries to reach me. Neutral or not. Become an ally or we'll take you with force." He paused for a moment. "There's no third option, Niederlande."

"You're wrong," the Netherlands finally spoke. There was no choice. Apparently it was time to choose sides. It wouldn't be Germany's. "I will not let you. What self-respecting nation would allow to be invaded, would allow someone to take over? There's no third option. No second option either." He sighed and glanced at his admiral; the marine officer actually looked shocked.

"This is a serious threat, Duitsland." He stood up, thus staring down at the other nation and looked him straight in the eye."I haven't allied with anyone. I'm not part of any alliance. I wasn't planning to do so. And yet, you can't respect my choice for staying out of your war." He now noticed his hands were firmly grasping the chair, as if he needed the chair to support him, as if the steady ground under his feet disappeared. He'd never thought this would happen. He'd also never thought Germany would use Belgium and Luxembourg to threat him.

The nation let go of the chair and walked backwards. He crossed his arms; Germany just looked up at him. Cold was his stare. This wasn't the Germany he knew. "I, the kingdom of the Netherlands, declare war on the Federal Republic of Germany." Das Grossdeutches Reich. The Dutchman preferred the term 'das Nazireich.'

A sigh could be heard; a sigh that hinted to sadness. "You made the wrong choice, Niederlande." He stood up and walked out of the building without saying anything. After the door behind him had closed, he sighed again and shook his head. "Es tut mir leid," he spoke softly. No one heard him. Then the nation left, forced to follow his boss' orders and return to his own country. To defeat the Netherlands.

As soon as the 'delegate' left, the Netherlands sat down on his chair, closing his eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen. He thought he could stay out of the war, just with the first World War. He feared for his people. Being at war now had such a different meaning than being at war two hundred years ago. And since the independence of Belgium, he hadn't been in any war with anyone.

"Sir?"

"What?" he snapped.

"We have to warn the royal family," his admiral said, choosing his words very carefully. It seemed like the nation was having a hard time with the decision he just made.

"I already told the queen. She's fierce," a general told them with a tiny smile. "She wants to stay…" The nation glared at him.

"Impossible. I'll send her to London." He stood up and walked to the phone, but before he could dial a number, he got pushed away by his colonel.

"Sir, I don't know what you're planning to do, but we must avoid using the phone. Phone calls are very easy to intercept, you must realise that."

"We're at war for ten minutes or so," the Netherlands responded angrily with a slightly red face. "You can't stop me."

"Who are you going to call?"

"I have representatives in London and Paris. I should at least let them know what's going on. Eventual assistance would also be welcome." His minister of War looked intensely at him, but said nothing. This was nothing like the man he knew. Like the nation he knew. He was acting strange…

"I'll contact the rest of the government. It's probably best to get them to London as well," the minister said and left the headquarters.

His officers left as well, leaving the country alone. Of course, he wouldn't be really on his own; his officers knew he was unpredictable in a state like this and probably left some soldiers on guard. The Netherlands didn't care at the moment and tried to dial his ambassador in Paris. The person answering the call wasn't Dutch, though.

"Bonjour, France speaking," he heard. The Frenchman sounded somewhat tired.

"Morning."

"Who is this? Pays-Bas? Why are you calling me at such an hour?" It sounded like he hadn't slept at all; then he realised France was already at war.

The Netherlands quickly told him what happened in the past few hours. So much happened in so little time. "It's likely Belgium and Luxembourg will be attacked as well." He sighed; Luxembourg wouldn't stand a chance.

"So, le crocodile got tired of waiting, non. I'll try to help. I can send one of my generals your way."

"Much appreciated. Thanks." The crocodile? What was that man talking about? He knew the Frenchman could get a bit poetic at times, but comparing Germany with a crocodile? For him, he was like an elephant. Crushing everything that gets in the way. What had he done… his army wasn't ready for a war…

"Good luck," he heard France say. "You're one of the few barriers between him and England. This war will be worse than the first one. So don't get yourself defeated. It'll not end well."

The Netherlands groaned. "Yes, thank you for being so optimistic."

The other smiled a little. "It's just the truth. Take care."

The Dutch nation sighed and stared at the phone. This was not good. This was not good at all. After making a short phone call to London - England basically promised the same and would send reinforcements as soon as possible - he turned on the radio, only to turn it off again after a couple of seconds. He was not in the mood to listen to music. His people out there; the innocent women, children… did they even know it was dangerous right now? How could they reach the entire population on time?

He thought he was ready for the war. It turned out he wasn't ready at all. He relied too much on the thought his neutrality would protect him from the war. A terrible mistake he made.

An officer came running in. "Sir, there have been reports of German planes and parachutists in the area here!"

The Netherlands stood up, expression blank. "Let them come."


	3. Chapter 3

It surely slows you down when you have to research a lot. I now know that. Of course, this is a historical fanfic, but there might be some not intended historical inaccuracies. And no, I don't own Hetalia, bla bla. We all know I don't.

xXx

Again, the Netherlands was stuck in the building. His general didn't let him fight.

There had been rumours about Dutch uniforms being smuggled to Germany, but he never had the desire to do something about it. After all it was just a rumour and back then he believed the Germans weren't likely to attack him.

How wrong he was.

He thought he was prepared on this war, but really, he wasn't. Yes, his army was mobilised and yes, they'd built guard posts close to the borders, but his people weren't trained as soldiers. They were trained… to build posts.

It was all so frustrating! He had sent both his minister of Foreign Affairs and minster of Colonies to England, so they could, in his name, discuss with the Allies about what to do about Germany. He had forbidden the contribution of pamphlets, grounded the German citizens in his country, but really, it didn't matter. What he did was of no importance.

"Sir, we lost contact with Zutphen and Deventer."

"Keep trying," he answered, staring at the map. If he only knew where the enemy actually was, if they were going south or north or straight forward, how fast they moved, with how many battalions they were.. so many questions and there were no answers at all.

He could hear the planes, flying over them. Normally they would go to England. He never really bothered about the planes. The morning was still barely waking up, but they were already at full battle. His people were shooting at the planes, trying to hit the engines and the parachutists. It was useless. They were with too much.

It was around eight a.m. when Headquarters got another message.

"The Germans managed to cross the IJssel by Westervoort, sir," one of the generals told him. Some groaning could be heard, but the Netherlands didn't say anything. He was at a loss for words.

Some time later, the same general reported Zutphen fell in German hands as well.

"Tell them to blow up every single bridge that crosses the Maas," the Dutch nation demanded, still staring at the map. Just like the IJssel, the Maas was another river, a natural barrier who even kept the Romans out of the area twenty centuries ago. Unfortunately, these were different times; Romans were not Germans and unlike in the past, the rivers weren't impossible to cross.

It was his strong and weak point at the same time. The rivers. He had thought they didn't need that many soldiers at the riversides, because the rivers were a barrier their selves. It was another stupid mistake. A miscalculation. One of many.

The Netherlands glanced at the door; he wanted to get out, he was of no use when he just sat here, waiting. He was not a princess they had to protect! He had more fighting experience than a whole battalion, including the general leading that battalion.

He had fought countless of nations, had thought out fantastic plans and strategies and yet they kept him here. Babysitted by some soldiers.

Little did he know both his ministers and army's leaders had been talking behind his back. About how strange he acted lately, as if he didn't care. He'd been so indifferent about the German spies, the rumours about the smuggle of Dutch uniforms, the continuous threats of Germany. The Netherlands was supposed to be the nation that was great a few centuries ago; an empire, the Dutch empire, one of the biggest at one point. Almost ruler of the seas.

And now? Now he was just any other country, desperately clamping to his neutrality until Germany himself opened his eyes. They couldn't trust this new Netherlands. It was all for his own safety. And theirs.

A young soldier came in, somewhat nervous and avoided the nation's stern look. The Netherlands looked at him as he was a hawk, a hawk looking that just found it's prey. "Yes?" he snapped.

"The Germans.. " the young man started, clearly not wanting to get on Netherlands' bad side. "They've crossed the Maas."

Ten seconds passed. Then the Dutch nation stood up abruptly and marched to the door. The soldier passing the message had clearly not been expecting it, as he only could stumble a weak 'sir' when the man opened the door. There were no soldiers on guard. Good. He wanted to see it with his own eyes. His government was nuts. They couldn't lock up their own nation that easily.

He stared at the sky, a sky filled with planes, high in the air, ready to drop the German parachutists. He could hear the noise; the noise of the approaching of a terrible, upcoming war. The soldier who brought the news had caught up with him and tried to force him back to the building, but he shook him off.

"You can't expect me to go back and do nothing!" he shouted, losing his calmth. "It's my country, my land, my people and I'm not that much of a bastard to let my people die on their own!" At this point he honestly didn't care about how strange this must be for any human who didn't know about his 'secret'.

He saw how the parachutists got closer and closer to Dutch ground; he demanded the man's gun and ran off with it. The parachutists, while hanging in the air, were helpless and an easy target for them to shoot. Unfortunately they were forced to wait until they were fairly close the ground so they would have a greater chance on escape.

He heard one of his generals shouting at him, but ignored his orders and followed one of the airplanes that recently dropped off quite a few German soldiers. He didn't feel anything when his first shot went straight through the head from a young, blonde man. In this war the men didn't choose to be in the army. The one he shot was forced to become a soldier for the Third Reich. The man he just killed was maybe a father, a teacher, or a writer, even.

He'd killed an innocent being. That didn't stop him for pulling the trigger once more, though. It was the Dutch dead or the Germans dead, and he obviously chose for the latter. Sometimes violence really was the only answer in order to survive.

xXx

"Good day, am I talking with France?"

"You are. I wanted to inform you, Pays-Bas," the man answered. Again, the Netherlands thought he was sounding worn-out, exhausted even.

He nodded, then realised it wasn't really effective. "Ja?"

"I've sent a general your way and he's making a lot of progress." A small chuckle could be heard; it was the first laugh the Dutch nation heard since the invasion. It was actually nice to hear. "They should arrive at your southern borders tomorrow morning..."

"I see." He hoped France's troops would be on time. There was so much confusion. His generals had told him, that although they'd shot down a lot of soldiers, around eight thousand parachutists managed to get down safely. German trains were currently riding into his country by Venlo, a city near the German border, undoubtedly full of even more soldiers.

The Germans had attacked the airports; Valkenburg was the first to fall. Although their airplanes got damaged badly, they were with too much for the fighting Dutch to win over. They surrendered after a few hours. However, the Netherlands had given orders to attempt a recapture; so far he'd only heard reports about how the entire village of Valkenburg got involved with it.

His other airport, Ypenburg was located near the Hague. Most countries used one particular city for their ministerial activities; their capital. He'd preferred to split it. Amsterdam was his capital, the Hague was for politics. Of course Germany knew that and had sent most of his troops to Ypenburg. Although they had captured it pretty soon, it was Dutch property again in the afternoon.

"Netherlands, I'm talking to you," France's voice came through the phone, sounding somewhat impatient.

The Dutch nation, who had been daydreaming, snapped out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Nothing important," the Frenchman responded. "Don't let him win."

With that, the man on the other side of the line hung up on him. The Netherlands sighed. He wasn't used to be at war. There had been peace in his country for more than a century. He didn't have any experience in modern wartime; something he would pay a high price for.

Germany had something done that hadn't been done before. It was the biggest airborne operation in history so far. The newspapers told the Dutch people around thousand soldiers were shot; seventy airplanes were too damaged to function normally. In truth, more than eight thousand German parachutists had set foot on Dutch ground.

And that.. was just a tip of the iceberg.


End file.
